


Control-Z on Murder

by GomorrahHillsides (Within_N_Without)



Series: Autocorrect [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Blunt Steve McGarrett, Insecurity, M/M, Misunderstandings, Non-Explicit Orgasm Control Mentioned, PG Love Until it Isn't, Perceptive Steve, Pointed Conversations, Season 1 Episode 18 Fix-It, Slow Burn, Sneaky Steve, Steve's Control Issues, Time Travel Fix-It, When Doing Nothing Saves the Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 06:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12835236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Within_N_Without/pseuds/GomorrahHillsides
Summary: Danny saves his brother's life by doing nothing. There's a whole chain reaction he's potentially undone. No regrets. But he's maybe starting to regret this thing with Steve. There's just so many ways for things to end badly. And he's getting mixed signals again.





	Control-Z on Murder

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer ** I own none of this ** 
> 
> A gloriously self-indulgent chapter where not much of import happens. And at the same time, a huge thread of chain reactions is undone. Very conversation heavy. But I absolutely love blunt Steve and insecure but badass Danny, so it's likely to be a reoccurring theme. 
> 
> Also, wrote this while listening to Parov Stelar mixes. Best decision ever.

Matt is in town. 

This time around, Danny doesn't do anything. 

Like last time, he and Steve eat dinner with Matt, Grace, and Rachel. It's a thoroughly pleasant affair, full of laughs. In fact, Danny tries extra hard to make the time they spend together special, because he knows, before the week is out, Matt will get arrested by the FBI, who are sitting at the bar in their tacky clothes. He doesn't have to point them out to Steve. He's warned him already. And he's asked Steve to forgive his cowardly brother's poor judgement, relating the story of how Matt had sat with him for months, drinking into the night after Danny's marriage imploded. 

Unlike last time, when Rachel surreptitiously checks him out, he just smiles politely. When she flirts, he compliments her but doesn't sway into her space. Instead, he sits close to Steve, chair angled so that their shoulders brush and they're basically sharing an armrest. 

Steve's jaw clenches each time Rachel gives Danny an opening. Easy layups for the romantic soul, which Danny definitely is. 

Feeling guilty, Danny purposely takes the ball and shoots it into the bushes. 

When she offers, "Do you remember the full moon the first winter after Grace was born?"

She's referring to the night they'd spent on his parents' roof, baking tiny smores over a lighter while Christmas music played softly in his old room where Grace was tucked into a nest of blankets. His family had been sprawled across every available surface at Mom and Pop's house. The downstairs was a minefield of snoring sleeping bags. It's a romantic story that Grace would probably enjoy hearing and would probably make Matty laugh.

Steve's already steeling himself to hear it, hand a little tight on his glass. Smile a little brittle. In superSEAL's mind, if you fight like cats and dogs, it's a sign of great passion. In his head, love and war are probably bunkmates. He's been around to hear Danny chew on and on about his ex-wife. Has even heard Danny's half of the screaming matches they wage over the phone. His first year, he hadn't had much of a filter when it came to Rachel. 

Him and Steve don't fight like that. 

There's a thread of affection in their arguments. Half the time, it's Danny yelling about procedure and telling him, in roundabout ways to be more careful, while Steve does his best to rile him up just for the pleasure of hearing one of Danny's rants. 

Honestly, the stupid lunkhead. 

So, Danny pretends to ponder. And then hums. "Oh, yeah, I remember – the case with the circus clown graffiti artists. Honestly, those guys were like moonflowers. Only came out on full moon nights. Wreaked havoc all through Central Park. Man, I didn't know I told you about that case. Get this," he slaps Steve's shoulder even though he already has the man's attention, "these guys were honest to God acrobats. You'd have loved them. Had a habit of scaling the most expensive buildings and statues around town..." And he weaves a narrative for half an hour around a case that had taken him and Peterson all of a New York minute to solve.

Everyone's enjoying it, although Rachel gives him an odd look partway through. And then her eyebrows go even higher when he keeps misinterpreting her "Do you remember"s as references to case stories. 

Steve cottons on quick to what Danny's doing and slowly starts to ease in his seat, relaxing again. Regaining his confidence enough to share his own kid-friendly, "no, not everything I've done is classified" stories and to poke fun at Danny in a way that makes Grace laugh. 

It's a beautiful dinner. 

Enough that Danny can almost forget that Matt's headed for jail, and it's going to be Danny fielding confused calls from their family. It's still better, though, than the calls he'd had to make when Matt evaded arrest. Or, when Danny had recovered the oil drum with Matt stuffed inside it. 

He regrets nothing. 

 

He hasn't been entirely sure if he's made the right call. 

Then Matt calls him from jail, asks him to help him pick a lawyer. 

To help him in general.

It's already an improvement. Last time, his last words with Matt had been exchange in the dark on the other end of a gun. This time he's not ashamed of himself. 

Although, it feels kind of weird that Steve will now never really know the Danny who seriously fucked up and ended up paying massively for it with regards to Matt. Steve doesn't have to lie for him this time around. And, in this second chance, he's not going to murder Reyes because Reyes doesn't have his brother.

Matt's  _safe_ in a jail cell.

He flies out to Jersey and spends a month working remotely on cases, helping Steve with the paperwork – particularly the parts that have to do with explaining Five-0s use of deadly force, property damage, and chaos they leave in their wake. Danny's creativity, though, putters out on a particularly egregious use of Steve's bowie knife. 

"Oh, come on, Danno. What did you write last time?"

Danny laughs. "Uh, I was in Hawaii last time, working the case with you."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, me being the voice of reason, I talked you out of using your bowie knife. You absolute nutcase."  He hangs up before Steve can needle him into asking his Jersey cops for inspiration. No way is he going to let them know how crazy his partner is.

And, yes, now he is sure. 

He regrets nothing.

"No, I am not moving in with you."

"But Danny – "

"I said, 'No,' Steven." 

"Oh, come on, Danno. Think of all the money you'd save! I mean, what's the point of doin' what we're doin' if you're overpaying on rent for that trash heap you call an apartment each month?"

Danny waves his hand sharply. A silent reminder to shut up because Kono and Chin are in the bull pen and they still don't know. There's a long list, but they're not all that far behind Steve. So far, he's only told Steve the things he remembers about the cases that are coming up and why they need the money. Namely, all the times Five-0 will get extorted for large sums.  

Steve and him are going about the business of making bank in the usual way – like every movie about time travel since the beginning of cinema. They place bets based on Danny's memories. Lord knows, he'd watched enough games and reruns that he's had the scores memorized for games way in the future. If the butterflies don't go fucking anything up with their tropical storms, they should have years of safe bets in their futures. Their bets are small. Bite-sized and relatively anonymous, handled as they are in bulk through one of Kamekona's cousins, so that no one's the wiser. 

Yes, it's illegal. The gambling and the tax evasion, since their winnings go unreported. But it's small time crime compared to jacking money out of evidence lockers or hitting up corrupt brothers-in-law for cash. He wants to save his team the grief.

Hell, he only told Steve in duress because the man wouldn't leave him alone with Kamekona long enough to set something up. If it was up to him, Danny wouldn't let Steve get involved. But the man won't take no for an answer. He insists on taking the same risks as Danny. Worse yet, Danny is not an idiot. He knows the reason Steve always beats him to their pick-up spots to collect their cash winnings is twofold. 

One, he's convinced he's stealthier then Danny. More likely to spot a tail, less likely to stand out with his darker coloring, and less suspicious in that he apparently has a known habit of doing military training exercises at odd hours in the night.

The other reason, and the one Steve won't cop to, is that, if someone's going down for this, he's determined it be him. He uses all the most obvious arguments, basically using Danny's family against him. Selfless moron.

It's immature, but Danny gets back at him by failing to disclose the total sum of his memories on certain cases. Certain, as in, the ones where Steve got injured. 

It's not every case. 

The ones where no one had to get hurt, but Steve did, because he was stupid, Danny hands over all information and Steve, thankfully, acts responsibly, taking his advice and avoiding the avoidable about 85% of the time. 

But the ones where someone got hurt because the perp was particularly volatile, or because someone had to quickly agree to volunteer as replacement hostage, or because someone had to cross through open territory while guns were going off and backup was overwhelmed – he makes sure that the case meets all four of his criteria and then Danny either lies by omission or misdirects Steve about the case. The criteria are as follows:

  * If, in the past, whatever happened was out of Steve's control. 
  * If, in the past, Steve behaved recklessly during that case. 
  * If, in the past, Steve's particular skills hadn't been needed and anyone could have done.  
  * And, if Steve's been looking through his Champ box recently or coming in with dark circles beneath his eyes.  



When he lies, Danny ensures that he's on the critical path. If Steve assigns Chin or Kono to a task that's set to end up looking like a shit show, he switches with them with just enough brashness that they believe it's on Steve's orders. Steve's never around to tell them himself. 

Danny's reputation suffers a bit for it. It's not that he looks incompetent on paper. But the guys at HPD that come in as backup see the short, blonde, loud-mouthed haole cop running from a scene covered in a greater than average number of bruises and patched up cuts and they make assumptions about his fighting prowess. 

Danny's a good boxer and he can handle himself. His smaller stature sometimes even comes with the benefit of being a smaller target, so he can cross open spaces hiding behind a bullet-proof vest-lined trash lid. And, he's pretty good with people. He's got empathy and emotional intelligence on his side, so he can talk down situations that Steve, in the past, had found ways to accidentally escalate. Particularly in these early days in their career as partners. 

Danny's days of lying by omission, however, are numbered. He knows this. Mostly because Steve is a little bit crazy. Like, certifiable, with his need to know everything. In particular, he's determinedly double-timing on learning Danny's tells, reading his facial expressions, translating Danny's body language. 

You'd think that learning a partner couldn't be double-timed, but Steven J. McGarrett finds a way. By being a nuisance. 

Or, more accurately, doing a very good impression of a five-year-old.

His method is simple and terrifyingly effective. 

He asks Danny stupid questions. Ones that he'd have no reason to lie about.

"What's your favorite color, Danno?"

Or, "What's Grace's favorite book?"

Or, "What did you have for breakfast, Danny?"

Sometimes, he tells Danny to lie. Those times, there's a lot of staring involved. He leans in close to Danny's space and says things like "Lie to me about your Mom's best dish" or "Lie to me about your first car." 

It's clever. Not only is he learning the stupid, innocuous pieces that make up Danny's life, but he's also catching up to Danny's seasoned level of partner-reading.

There's no doubt superSEAL is going to match him by the end of the year and Danny is a studied veteran in McGarrett. Can read the guy like a book. And maybe it's no wonder that the stark difference in their "reading levels" drives Steve crazy. Just having that gap close is gratingly annoying to Danny, and he's not the one at a disadvantage. 

The worst part is that Steve, once he feels like he's learned something new, tests himself on the questions Danny  _doesn't_ want to answer. 

"You squint when you lie. You're a squinter," he says one day, as they're sitting facing each other on Steve's couch. 

 "Please don't tell me you want to test your theory now," Danny groans, but his mouth is being noncompliant with his feelings, smiling crookedly at Steve because of the familiar phrasing. 

"Pizza won't be here for another twenty minutes." 

"We could start the movie," Danny points out, helpfully.

"It's not dark out."

"Ok, except darkness is not a requirement of home-viewing movie rentals." 

"Danno," Steve glares. 

"Fine. Fire away." Danny's expecting prickly questions. Usually, they're concentrated around Danny's failed marriage, or Steve picks one of Danny's rants as his focus, trying to pry up the roots of his vociferous opinions, already having noticed that things Danny rants about most usually have the deepest roots and are covered in thorns, even if the preference itself is innocuous. Like Danny's hatred of pineapples on pizza. Steve still hasn't gotten Danny to talk about that one. 

So, his jaw drops when Steve chooses, with zero shame, zero hesitation, and zero apprehension, to ask, "Have you ever fingered yourself open?"

Danny's inarticulate yelp is no answer at all. His cheeks are burning and he can't meet Steve's level gaze, because, yes, he is embarrassed. And, he doesn't understand how Steve thinks asking sex questions will be at all representative of Danny's typical tells. He's not pouting at how unfair Steve's scrutiny is. Maybe he'd like a chance to practice and hone his Steve-wrangling?

He doesn't share this rant out loud, though, because he doesn't want to see the face Steve makes when he's made to talk about things he's compartmentalized. It's as if the things he's buried hurt as much coming out as they did going in. Also, Danny doesn't really feel like hearing "It's classified" on a loop. 

"Yes or no, Danny," Steve prompts. When Danny glances up, Steve's expression is too serious for this talk. 

"No, then," Danny says. 

Steve studies his expression closely. Apparently, his answer was inconclusive for Steve. He usually asks follow up questions when he's unsure if he's read Danny right. Although, in this case, it might just be curiosity, when he asks, "How many fingers did you mange? Was it two? Three?"

Shameless, stupid, kinky sailors.

Seriously? Zero to sixty.

Danny's not all that interested in being helpful in this conversation. They haven't really done much more than snuggle and trade ridiculously chaste kisses that only involve lips on lips maybe half the time.  

In Danny's 'dream' - as they've been calling it – Steve hadn't been this obsessed with figuring Danny out. Then again, the man had been significantly more obsessed than any normal friend would be. And he'd pretty much only subjected Danny to the treatment. Kono hadn't had to field questions about what bagged lunch she was bringing to work and Steve hadn't pressed his nose into her business when she'd had a secret boyfriend or working for Vice. 

So, maybe this is normal for Steve? Is this how he builds trust? By boosting his confidence that, if he gets lied to, he'll see it? It would make sense. Steve had trusted him probably more than anyone else and Danny had always been an open book with Steve. But then, why the accelerated pace? Is it because of their still very PG fledgling relationship? And, if that is the reason - if they're staying PG because Steve doesn't trust him enough to increase their intimacy – then why is Danny the outlier? Is it because he's a man? More physically able to challenge Steve than Steve's girlfriends had been?

It's not like Steve had ever had such exacting requirements in his other relationships. Danny doesn't know about Catherine, but definitely with Lynn, Steve hadn’t known her nearly as long or as well as this Steve knows Danny before he'd started sleeping with her. 

"Danno, how many fingers?"

It's a deflection, but one that Danny knows will work on Steve, and swallow up the time until the pizza guy comes and maybe Danny will get some answers. So, he asks, "Do you trust me, Steven?"

There's unadultered shock in Steve's eyes. Not because the question is so unexpected, but because Steve thinks the answer is obvious. And as soon as he realizes the question is genuine, that Danny is waiting for an answer, his gaze goes flinty.

"Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"It's a stupid question," Steve says. 

"Excuse me? You can't just answer yes, or no, Steven?"

"You asked if I trust you, but you didn't tell me what I'm supposed to be trusting you with." 

Before Danny can stand up and walk out the door, Steve seizes him. 

Honestly, nothing with this guy can ever be simple. And this is the problem with knowing people too well. Steve can now use preventative measures. It's not like he'd let go if Danny asked. The man doesn't follow the rules of normal human behavior. From now on, Danny is sure, it'll never be enough just to say the words. From now on, he'll have to mean them.

Like in this moment. Danny says, "Let me go, Steven." 

And the stupid, Neanderthal animal says, "Not until you  _want_ to go, Danny."

And the cow says "Moooooo!" 

It's about the same level of conversation, in Danny's humble opinion.

"What am I trusting you with Danny?" Steve asks, after the second it takes for Danny's body to go limp as he gives up. 

"Your life," he shoots back. It's sharp and he means it as a challenge. The boxer in him wants a fight, even though Steve won't give him one – not the kind with two people in a ring, and not the verbal jabs – Steve's never been like Rachel. There are no rip-the-house-down, scream-yourself-hoarse arguments in the McGarrett house. Especially since Steve gets quieter when he's angry. He maybe even listens more. 

Listening to the flaws in your logic. Listening to your heartbeats. Assessing your weaknesses before he goes in for the kill. The Navy is a scary, scary organization. Steve embodies it perfectly. 

"Don't be an idiot. Of course, I trust you with my life," Steve says, without missing a beat. "What else?"

Danny doesn't want to try and guess where Steve's set the traps for whatever he's trying to prove. "How about you tell me what you don't trust me with, huh? Let's start there."

"Oh, too many things to count."

Danny gapes at him. Yeah, the guy is digging a grave. Tombstone says 'Steve McGarrett, Idiot Extraordinaire'. 

"Yeah, see, I don't trust you to fix the TV, Danno. Because I've seen you try to fix a computer. Gotta tell you, buddy, bonking things that have delicate pieces of circuitry inside? Not the best idea." 

"Bite me, McGarrett."

"And I don't trust you with the future boyfriends of one, Gracie Williams. Particularly if any of them happen to have a tattoo or drive a motorcycle. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can't trust myself with her future boyfriends either, so we're going to have to think of a solution, pronto."

"She's not dating till she's thirty," Danny says, starting to relax a little. 

"And I don't trust you to do the laundry –"

"Hey, that was not my fault!"

" - when it's all whites and Grace has been over for a weekend."

"I am telling you, that pink sock was not in the load, nor was it in the washing machine when I put the clothes in. 100% your mystic washing machine's fault."

"Just like I'm sure you'd tell me that you don't trust my taste in music, you don't trust that I'll call for backup, and most of all, you don't trust me to stay safe." 

"Okay, but see, you picked all the easy ones," Danny says.

"So, give me a hard one, Danno."

"Your heart."

Steve shakes his head, pouting with false disappointment. "Again, stupid question. I love you and you know that. Just like I know you love me too." 

"No, see, I hate you." 

Steve just kisses him on the cheek before nuzzling into the crook of Danny's neck. 

Which brings Danny to "one last one, and then I'll be satisfied."

Steve cocks an eyebrow in a silent 'go ahead.'

Danny doesn't want to ask. It sounds stupid. But needs must. They are adults new to a relationship. That, in Danny's experience, has always meant one of two things. Either lots of sex, or dates that lead to lots of kissing. Danny spends more time with Steve in a day than he's ever spent with anyone. Wife, parents, siblings, friends, even his kids. 

Yes, part of it is work. A huge part. But now, the evenings and the weekends, and still, not even a real kiss. Does Steve even like men? Maybe there's never been an elephant in the room. Or maybe it's been Danny's elephant that Steve has been valiantly trying to wave away before it crushes them.

Steve pinches him to hurry up. 

Also, the pizza is almost due.

Anxious, Danny bites his lip, but says it anyway. "Do you trust me with your body?" 

"...um....what?" Steve is staring at him like he used to stare at Grace when she asked a little kid question akin to, 'How does a crane fly?' Where Steve would answer, 'Birds can fly by flapping their wings' and she would say 'yes, but how does a  _crane_ fly?" Incidentally, she'd been talking about the paper crane Auntie Kono had taught her to fold, since she'd seen it flying in one of those stupid live action fantasies for kids. 

So, Danny applies the same logic, figuring they're talking about two different things. "I mean sex. Do you trust me? Or is this even something you want? Because, it occurs to me, that maybe I've somehow railroaded you into this, which was never my intention. I can take my elephant back and put it in some other room next to some other schmuck's elephant and maybe they'll mate and live happily ever after – " He's rambling.

Steve makes Danny stop rambling. 

And also makes him wonder if McGarretts are born with screws loose. Because, nothing can ever follow a normal trajectory. A steady incline. A predictable progression. If Danny hadn't seen Steve kiss other people before, he'd think the man doesn't know how. 

Because all of a sudden, Steve's got two, overly-long fingers in Danny's mouth. Short-clipped nails tickle the back of his throat before he pulls them out. Finally, the moronic idiot, covers Danny's mouth with his. 

Forget an easy first kiss. Exploratory and slow, just two plush lips set together. Nope, zero to sixty. McGarrett licks the seam of Danny's lip like he's desperate to get his tongue inside. Like it's a yeti standing outside in a snowstorm hoping a little old Granny will invite him in for cocoa. Danny is not the Granny. He's the cocoa. Obviously. 

When Danny doesn't get with the program fast enough, one of those huge fucking hands cups the entirety of Danny's jaw, thumb and ring finger massaging softly, but with just enough pressure, at the hinge, coaxing Danny to open. And when he does, Steve's tongue lays siege. 

Of course, it does.

It's distracting and wet, and Steve can't seem to help but lap into his mouth, slipping in and out between Danny's lips in the most embarrassing way possible. 

It's rude to stare. 

So, Danny being a normal human being, had never stared at a kissing McGarrett, rare as it was for it to be a public sight. But if this is at all how the man was kissing people at the time – IN PUBLIC – then he should have looked. And promptly put the menace behind bars for public indecency. 

What the hell. 

Danny is discomfited by this kissing. Maybe they should go back to being a PG couple. Because Danny is not a man who whimpers. He might moan occasionally, but it's usually with pain or because he's having a lovely meal. In South Korea, it's polite to make noise at the dinner table to let the host know you enjoy the food. The noises he's making now would have everybody leaving the room very quickly. He can't believe some of the noises originating in his throat. 

His voice is  _not_ that high. 

He's so distracted, he doesn't notice that Steve's pulled his shirt up so it's bunched up beneath his armpits until the wet, slick fingers he'd forgotten about are circling his areola. And then, because someone taught Steve McGarrett early in life that warfare is fun, those wicked fingers pinch his nipple and start tugging and pulling and rubbing upwards. Steve's got a goal and Danny's pretty sure he doesn't want to know what it is. 

He is entirely too old to be learning new tricks. Or at least, mentally, he's not convinced he's still in his thirties. He's also way too old to be this green. 

He wants to hunt down some of the guys he'd dated and experimented with before Rachel and whack them over their heads with the book of Kama Sutra. And maybe some internet porn. They should have studied for this. Practiced towards this, what Steve's doing now. Because it feels fantastic. He wants more. But there's a terrible side effect. His pale, stupid, easy-burn body is doing a full blush. 

His  _ears_ are getting warm.

And fuck Steve, because of course the asshole notices. First it makes him chuckle, eyes awed by the color change. It's like he's seeing a rare lizard changing pigmentation. But then he sobers and the look on his face just makes Danny redder. He looks fucking starved. A lost soldier in the desert and Danny's the last MRE. 

The doorbell rings.

"Pizza's here," Danny supplies, helpfully, before dumping Steve on the floor and hying off to the kitchen to grab the biggest glass of ice water he can find. 

After Danny opens the sexy can of worms, there's no way to close it, but at least Steve starts following a trajectory. A trajectory that is going nowhere fast while at the same time traveling at light speed. 

Impossible, you say?

Well, Steve manages. 

At first, Danny doesn't think to ask the internet. He still suspects the trust issues, no matter what Steve says. Except he's looking at the wrong set of issues for answers. He wants to know why Steve is torturing him. 

Because the man refuses to bring him to orgasm. 

He won't let Danny satisfy himself either. 

"No touching," Steve says, catching his wrist any time he notices it straying downward. Which is always. Staying the night with Steve becomes impossible, unless he's willing to be hard in his pants all evening, all night, and part of the morning as Danny rushes home to jerk off in his own shower before work. 

Since he's not naive, Danny realizes Steve is working an angle but he doesn't know what it is.

It occurs to him later that maybe Steve is trying to gently teach Danny how he likes to have sex. As Danny tries out various Google searches, he finally finds the Wikipedia page for orgasm control, or  _edging_ which just sounds so McGarrett-appropriate, and it seems to fit. Especially the part about erotic sexual denial. Steve and his stupid control issues. 

Danny lets things slide for a little while longer since their lives are busy enough with their cases. Some days, they don't go home, dropping like horses in their stall-shaped offices, in chairs and on couches, eating straight out of fast food containers held close to their mouths like they're feed bags. But then the more recent case closes and it's the weekend. 

Danny wants to spend it with Steve. And, what he'd really love, is an orgasm from the guy who he's supposedly dating. Supposedly, because they have yet to go anyplace alone together outside of the house since this all began two months ago. But, if he wants something, he's going to have to ask. 

How do you begin to ask these things?

He's trying to think of an opening. 

An easy segue. 

"Danny, just go ahead and ask," Steve suddenly orders, voice frustrated, as they sit across the table from each other. One of Ma's dishes between them. First proper meal in what feels like forever. Danny could cry. Steve already teared up earlier.

"Um...ask what?"

Steve cocks an eyebrow.  _Really_?

Danny rolls his eyes. "Okay, my question is..." 

Fuck, he can't do it. How did he ever get Rachel to marry him? Then again, he'd never been so conflicted over Rachel. He doesn't just want Steve's love. He wants the man's respect in a way that's different and entirely separate from their personal relationship. 

Yes, he knows he has Steve's respect for some things. 

Almost like merit badges. 

Like, the Fatherhood Merit Badge. Steve respects the hell out of the way Danny parents, because Danny's style is warm and comforting while still being strict, imposing rules.

There's also the Detective Merit Badge. It's for detecting. Danny's not bad at that. 

He's just not sure he's earned any other ones. 

The Chef Merit Badge? Steve says he likes his cooking. Which, of course he does, because it's Ma's recipes and he can follow a recipe. 

So, three things Danny's good at. 

Is that bad? 

He had only cared half as much before they'd gotten into this relationship. He suddenly remembers why he hadn't wanted to seriously date any of the guys he'd slept with. In particular, he'd been adamant not to start anything with anyone he'd be working with in future. Not just because office-romances-turned-office-breakups were terrible, but because of the competition. 

Danny is only moderately competitive. Especially, compared to Steve. It's not a problem now. But what about if one of them ends up disabled and riding a desk? What if that happens to one of them and it's their partner's fault? There are so many ways this can to go sideways because of their professional relationship. 

It doesn't help that Steve never experienced fatherhood. He'd make a wonderful father. Grace and Charlie had known it from experience. And this Steve is starting to realize it as he spends more time with Grace. So, is it fair for Danny to tie up some of his best years for building a family? 

They can get together when they're eighty, when Steve's divorced with 2.5 genius Navy kids and has a ridiculous sports car in his garage from some late-in-life crisis that comes from realizing his SEAL days are really over. Or even if Danny's just the guy who Steve and Lou golf with. The curmudgeon they invite to barbeques. The buddy to reminisce over old cases with and maybe dig into cold ones.

Who the fuck cares, as long as Steve's alive?

Danny glances at the clock. Fifteen minutes ago, he'd been about to ask a sex question. Now, he's kind of convinced himself they should break up and Steve should go marry Cath or Lynn or some other lady and have beautiful babies. 

"What the hell are you thinking about?" Steve suddenly says. He's staring at Danny as if he's an art show exhibit. One of those weird ones that have "Interpretive" in the title. "You had a question, Danny, remember? What were you going to ask me?"

"Uh, well, I think the question kind of became irrelevant. Now I've got a different question, but I'm probably going to need some time to consider how to phrase it."

"Uh-huh." Steve is being patronizing. And his patronizing tone is one of those few things that could incite Danny to homicide. 

They're done eating so Danny starts clearing the plates. 

"Leave the plates," Steve commands. And yes, it's a command. 

Danny wonders it the Navy teaches its recruits how to say things in just that tone of voice. It's almost akin to an instinctual alarm klaxon. Kind of screams, do something! Now, now, now!

Danny ignores it. He's never really responded well to klaxons. "You can't leave the plates like this, Steven. They need to soak, otherwise we're gonna have hours of scraping in our future."

In typical McGarrett fashion, his patience runs out immediately and he starts quickly piling all the plates together and moving then en masse towards the sink.

"Dammit, Steve. Now all the bottoms are gonna have gunk on them. You've effectively doubled the number of dishes we'll have to clean."

"Don't worry, buddy," Steve says, steering Danny away from the mess in the kitchen. "Later, I'll get the dishes done in no time."

"No, you'll just toss them in the dish washer, willy nilly." 

Steve sits them on the couch, turns a game on low – does he know that it reminds Danny of late nights in his family's living room, right before bed time, when everything seemed right with the world? It's comforting to have the TV on, even if neither of them are paying attention to it. 

"I want to hear your original question, Danny?" Steve prompts. 

As if Danny could've forgotten already. "I told you it was irrelevant."

But Steve pokes at Danny's ribs and asks, again and again, until Danny finally says, "Have you ever thought about kids?"

Steve squints down at him. "You squinted." He accuses. "Don't think you're going anywhere until you've given me your original question," he warns. Before answering, "I love Grace, Danny."

"Um, yes. I know. And you are great with her. She loves you, ya big goof." 

Steve actually lights up at the compliment.

"Which is why I'm asking, have you ever thought about kids of your own?"

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Well, Danno," he says in that goddamn patronizing tone, "I think it's a little early to be talking about kids. I've heard from my best friend, who happens to be a father, that they're actually kind of a long-term commitment. And, the last time I asked you to move in with me, you said, 'No'."

When Steve gets like this – all snarky and only half-listening – Danny typically treats Steve like the adult he is, rather than the sulky teenager he's being, by ignoring Steve's comments and continuing in a serious vein. 

Or, you know. Sometimes, very rarely, he stoops to Steve's level. 

One or the other.

Cheese on a cracker, but Danny takes a calming breath and lets himself be goaded anyways. "Sorry, babe," he says, "but that's not how men work. See, you need a nice lady friend to make a baby. And, as it so happens, you are very popular with the lady friends."

 Steve blinks at him. "We've already talked about this."

"Um, no we haven't." Danny gestures sharply, because he is especially right.

"We have  _had_ this conversation, Danny." Steve insists. 

"No, see, we had a conversation about Charlie and Grace. But not any baby McGarretts. In fact," Danny waves very pointedly because he's noticed something. "You mentioned an arrangement that you were willing to try. I assumed at the time that it was for my sake, but maybe you were leaving yourself an open door?"

"You know," Steve checks his finger nails and then flicks them out in front of himself like he's trying out a switchblade. Although, superSEALs hand are probably useful for a number of the same tasks as a switchblade. "It's a good think the Police Academy took you in, because you were definitely never meant to be a therapist."

"It's a reasonable guess. I think it makes sense."

"Yeah, Danny, which is why I've been asking you to move in every chance I get. Because what I really want is a gaggle of babies and a 'dame'."

"It's a gaggle of geese, you nitwit. Do you really need a collective noun for babies? Besides, if we're talking about your progeny, I think a  _menace_ of babies would be more fitting. Also, last time we came close to this conversation, I'm not sure if I mentioned, you told me Catherine admitted she would have said yes. If you had asked."

It becomes quickly apparent that Steve isn't going to engage him in this conversation. The idiot has a tendency to start his own conversations as he pleases, inserting them into other people's perfectly reasonable conversations like he was there first. 

"You keep bringing up Catherine. Why?"

There's no traitors to switch to Steve's conversation. It's just them two. And Danny's going to win this time. No, really. "You're a good man, Steve. I'm not gonna give you a list because your ego's big enough that the last thing you need is a boost, but there's no reason you shouldn't have babies menacing you."

"Great. Awesome. We can adopt a baby or get someone to carry it for us. But, first, we need to have a stable home to bring a kid into. So, let me know when you want to give a second marriage a try. Then we can take a year, think of it as an extended honeymoon period, and see if we're ready for a baby then."

Danny's shaking his head in exasperation. Steve's apparently reached his limit on serious conversations for the day. "Yeah, sure Steven. Whatever you say."

Steve's grin looks a little wild. Like he won something. 

Danny's too tired to guess what's in Steve's head. Laying back, he lets his eyes closed. 

Too bad Steve's not done with his questions. "So, what's with this fascination with Catherine?"

"What do you mean? There's no fascination."

"Sure, which is why your lip curls in a micro-expression anytime her name comes up. Or, more accurately, you bring her up. She spurn you or something?"

"No, you putz! She spurned  _you_!" Danny says, letting his lip curl a little more. He can't help his slight distaste for Steve's old girlfriend. He's human and he tries very hard not to lie to himself. So, yes, he can be a little over-protective of a  _Navy SEAL_. It's not as stupid as it sounds, because it's Steven, and there's a large body of evidence that proves the man is too reckless, too quick to jump. Also, he's not oblivious to his...other flaws. Danny knows he can be a little jealous. A bit possessive. 

Not that Steve has room to talk on any of those fronts.  

"Is that all it is?" Steve asks.

"When I talked to her, it sounded like she was going to take care of you from then on. You seemed so happy."

"Obviously I wasn't because I didn't propose. Now, can you let it go?"

"Sure," Danny mumbles. He's starting to fall asleep.

"And your first question? The original one you were going to ask me?"

Danny groans. He can't be bothered to open his eyes. And, it makes him a little brave. A little. Enough, that he mumbles, "Was gonna ask if you've got a thing about orgasm denial."

Steve huffs, amused. "No, Danno, not really. Although I'm surprised you've heard of it."

"I didn't, you kinky b'strd." Danny yawns. "But I know how to use a search engine." Danny doesn't need to hear Steve's chuckle to know the man is amused. "Are you sure it's not an extension of your control issues?"

"No, Danny, it's really not." 

Danny wants to sleep. He also really wants an answer. "So? Why've you been torturing us?" Because, this whole orgasm denial thing hasn't been one-sided. If he hadn't felt Steve's hard length against him plenty of times, Danny would be paranoid. 

His head will go down dimly lit alleyways before it tries well-lit streets if he doesn't get answers, always. It's a thing. Today's Steve may not know this, because a building hasn't fallen on them, so Danny's never admitted that he pictured his divorce at his wedding, and his parents' deaths every time they were late. 

Yes, it occurs to him that Steve might need this information if they end up going forward into a relationship that involves orgasms, moving in, and a chance for Steve to earn his own Fatherhood Merit Badge alongside his Best Uncle Merit Badge. Although, this time around he'll have to actually compete with Matt for that one. 

Steve's been quiet too long. 

Danny's eyes snap open. "You know, I could've fallen asleep," Danny says when he finds the man awake, just staring at him. On the plus side, Steve didn't try to lie to him. On the minus side, Steve doesn’t want to answer the question, because if he'd wanted to, he'd have answered. Blunt as always. "What's the hold up?"

Steve shrugs, faux-casual. 

Yup, Danny's head is down an alley. He sits up, stiff and stares at Steve.

Steve stares back, wide-eyed at Danny's expression. Who knows what he's reading, but it can't be anything good. His hands are starting to come up again in that stupid "calm the spooked horse" gesture. "Wait, Danny, whatever you're thinking, it's probably wrong."

"I am a detective, Steven! I know how to read the clues!" He knows he's shouting. He's also scooting towards the other end of the couch. 

Steve does not like the space it creates between them, because he eyes the space pointedly and frowns. He doesn't stop Danny from creating it though. "Ok, Detective Williams, explain to me these clues that you're reading." 

It's sarcastic, but an opening that Danny's going to take seriously. "Clue 1, I've never seen you date a guy. Not in any of the years I've known you. Even after DADT was repealed." Steve's eyes go wider, mouth popping open just a bit, like he's seeing where Danny's driving to. Danny continues quickly, before Steve can try to take the wheel, "Clue 2, you've been setting a glacial pace and keeping your hands above belt. Clue 3, you've avoided being naked together. Even going so far as to vacate the bathroom, still half-wet, because I was going to start showering with you in there. Clue 4 – "

"Stop," Steve finally barks. He looks agitated, but more like his ears hurt rather than because he's guilty and doesn't want to hear the rest of the damning evidence. Good sign? “Fuck, Danny, really? I've been keeping things slow for your benefit.”

“Bullshit!” Danny interrupts. “There's no way you missed me trying to speed things up. I'd go to remove an article of clothing and you’d fucking tug it back on me.”

It's not a good sign when Steve winces. Guilty, then.

"Okay, so, remember, we talked about trust?" Steve starts.

"Oh,  _yeah_. That conversation where you actually never got around to answering me. Sorry, maybe I was asking the wrong question. Maybe, the question I should've asked is 'are we together because  _we_ want to be, or are we together because  _I_  want to be?'"

"Don't make me gag you, Danno. My turn to talk," Steve says. 

Danny doesn't think he's kidding. Crossing his arms, he nods for Steve to go ahead. He bites his lip, just as an added barrier in preventing interruption. 

For some reason, this bothers Steve enough that he reaches one of those ridiculously long arms out, and thumbs along Danny's lip, unfurling the corner from between his teeth. 

Um...what? But no interruptions. Fine. He gestures sharply for Steve to continue, because he wants to go to sleep and he wants answers, so Steve's got to fucking hurry up. If he has to drive home this time of night, he doesn't want to be doing it with his eyes tired-burning. He's had enough eye-burning for a lifetime.

"So, the trust talk. My motto is 'actions speak louder than words.' I hate talking. But I swear, I'm going to try harder, because I'm starting to see a pattern. Anytime I think something's obvious between us, and it's something personal, not work-related, you seem to reach the exact opposite conclusion. So, my side of things..." 

And oh, Danny wants to slap the nitwit upside the head for that eye roll. His arms hold tighter in their cross to stop himself from reaching over to do just that. No interruptions. No interruptions.

Steve sighs. "Okay, two things, and you're probably going to hate both of them. So, I'm going to need your keys." And the asshole holds his hand out, palm up.

"Excuse me?" Did Danny say he was tired? Because at the level of pissed he's edging, it's not really possible to be tired. "You want to trap me here?"

"No, Danny. If you're angry when we're done talking, we can go for a run or I've got a bag you can punch in the garage. But it's late and we've had an exhausting week. I'm not letting you drive out of here tonight." 

This is how Steve wins. Because Danny is responsible and a rational human being and he doesn't want to spend ten minutes arguing about Steve's control issues when they've got plenty to talk about already. Also, because he knows if he doesn't hand over the keys, Steve has no compunction against fishing them out of Danny's pockets. 

"Please hurry up with your two things," Danny says, handing over the keys. 

Steve drops the keys into the calf pocket of his stupid cargo pants as he says, "Thing one, I've never seen you with a guy either. I should've asked, because I've been holding back to forestall a Danny Williams-style freak out. Ah, no interruptions." He holds up a finger.

Danny has to bite his lip, because he's practically vibrating with all the ways that statement is inaccurate. Steve has no reason to think Danny was going to freak out over gay sex.

"See, no, don't do that." Steve again makes Danny release his lip. "You wanna know why I kept things above board? Why I walked out of bathrooms when you came in to shower? Why I made you keep your clothes on? I'm impatient, Danny. And if I'm resisting temptation, you've gotta be fully clothed."

Okay, fuck Steven and his no interruptions. "You had no reason to think I'd freak out over gay sex!" 

"Danny, there's literally ten things I've got at arm's length to gag you with. Shut up, and let me finish." 

If Steve didn't have his keys...well, Danny still probably wouldn't have made it out. Steve's between him and the door. But, Danny might need to take up Steve on that bag-in-the-garage offer. 

"First off, I'm still not sure if you've had gay sex or not. You avoid answering and turn rosy when I ask. I'm not willing to push in the heat of the moment because people stop thinking clearly during foreplay. There have been studies done that show that sexual arousal actually down-regulates disgust in preparation for intercourse. So, forgive me, Danny, if I want to have a sober discussion on the things you've done and the things you're comfortable with before I risk pulling you into something that you'll later regret." 

Dammit. Steve's right. Even right now, without any questions, Danny's having a hard time looking at Steve and his stupid pale skin is starting to flush. He can feel the heat in this face as he tries to duck away from it. 

"Yup, just like that. So, yeah, it's been slow going. And it's not just the sex I'm worried about with you. Danny, I know you. I've heard you talk yourself out of approaching women at the bar. Even if they've given you a once-over and a wink."

"They're usually looking at you," Danny points out. "I just happen to be short enough that they can see what you look like over my head." 

Steve looks ready to throttle him. "Why you always gotta put yourself down, Danny? I mean, were you like this before Rachel? Or did she do such a number on you that you can't believe someone wants you for longer than a minute?" 

"Please, please, Steven, can we get to the end of this conversation? What's thing two?" Danny asks, because he doesn't want to discuss his issues and it's still late. He wants to go to sleep instead of continuing awkward conversation threads till dawn. 

Steve seems to be making a mental note to come back to this in the future, but he sighs in agreement. "Okay, thing two. I made a rule that you don't know about and wouldn't approve of and I've been following that rule in hopes that it'd get me what I want." 

"Vague." Danny says, waving for him to explain. "What's this rule?"

"No orgasms until you agree to move in." 

Danny stares at him. "Do you have any idea how stupid that is?" Steve obviously does not. "So, you thought the best way to ensure I move in was to also ensure that I only orgasm when I'm at my place? Do you even understand how positive reinforcement works?" Watching the realization dawn on Steven that he's been positively reinforcing Danny's rattrap is a beautiful thing. And hilarious enough that Danny laughs outright. 

Steve curses. "Okay, not my best plan."

"Yeah, genius, no kidding. So, I'm guessing that rule of yours is now kaput?"

Thankfully, Steve nods. "But, Danny, the clothes stay on for both of us until you manage to sit through a whole conversation about sex."

"Yeah, I figured," Danny sighs, because Steve is not wrong. It's very cautious of him, actually, and Danny can appreciate that. If only Steve was this cautious in a firefight. 

"No, no, no, no, no," Danny's muttering, as soon as he steps into the office. Oh god, here is where it starts. 

"What, you know her?" Steve asks.

Swallowing hard, Danny nods. Because the woman they are both staring at as she paces in Steve's office is Jenna Kaye. 

**Author's Note:**

> QUESTION:: Does anyone know how to maintain formatting when posting fics?


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